


Whenever, Wherever

by itsallAvengers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Hospitals, Kid Miles Morales, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Married Life, Military, Sam Wilson Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Juggling a military career and a family is never easy. But Sam Wilson does everything he can to make it work.





	Whenever, Wherever

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission for Brianna, who wanted some SamTony military fic, with 'stars' acting as a motif throughout, and Miles as their son! I hope this is what you were after!

The night was dark and the wind was biting and out of the window of the cab, Sam watched as people marched down the rain-soaked streets in their usual surly fashion. Their coats were buttoned up to their throats and their faces pulled tight with discomfort at the rather abysmal weather. A typical New York evening, for all intents and purposes. Or at least, to everyone else it was.

Not to Sam Wilson though. No, he was damn near vibrating off his seat with a mixture of impatience and excitement, enough that the driver was starting to give him funny looks in the rear-view mirror. It _was_ probably a little disconcerting, watching a guy in full military uniform wiggling up and down on the seat like a giddy child, but Sam couldn’t quite make himself stop. It had been so long, at this point— and sure, being in the army was something Sam took a hell of a lot of pride in, but still… he felt like he’d almost forgotten what it was like to sleep on a soft bed. To taste proper home-cooked food. To hold onto a hand that wasn’t calloused by the barrel of a gun. “Lookin’ forward to somethin’?” The guy asked eventually, an eyebrow raised, and Sam turned his gaze away from the window in order to nod his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted as his mind flashed over to an image of home and a set of smiles that he was going to be seeing in less than thirty seconds now, “yeah, I’m…I’m going back to my family.”

The driver made a noise of understanding, his own smile matching with Sam’s as he nodded. “Well then, I better speed up then, huh?”

The apartment that Sam’s cab pulled up to was simple and modest—fairly decent place for the middle of New York, but nothing terribly special. It was on the bottom floor, squeezed in between two other buildings, with delicate pink and blue flowers lining the windowsills outside. That was the first thing that brought a smile to Sam’s face as he stepped out of the car and pulled his kitbag onto his back.

Tony sure loved his little flower baskets.

He checked his watch as he jogged forward toward the door, ringing the bell frantically whilst avoiding the peephole. He wanted to give Tony a surprise, seeing as he wasn’t supposed to be back for another week. But they’d given him early leave, and who was Sam to say no to that?

He’d missed his goddamn family, so he’d hopped on the chance and taken the first plane back. 

The apartment itself hadn’t sparked any excitement or relief within Sam as he’d arrived. He’d never really found his home in buildings or places—there were no roads Sam walked down and reminisced upon fondly, or old homes he could recount with a smile on his face. He didn’t care for any of that stuff. He’d always found his home in the people he’d lived alongside with; Steve and Bucky when they’d been kids, Nat and Thor and Bruce while they’d all navigated highschool together, Rhodey while they’d joined up to ROTC.

And as the door swung open, revealing Tony in a bathrobe and a toothbrush in his mouth, half-way to asking “don’t you think this is a little late to be making house-calls”, Sam felt such a burst of _Home home home home home_ that it nearly bowled him over.

Tony stared at him for a good few seconds or so, mouth dropping open and toothbrush hanging out of his mouth dumbly. Sam just grinned, something inside him settling—really, _truly_ settling—for the first time in 6 months and four days, which was the last time he’d seen the man in front of him. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” Tony responded, managing to remain vaguely calm for one extra second before he threw himself into Sam’s arms with truly rapid speed. Sam chuckled and caught him around the waist, pulling him close, tucking his head into the soft cotton of Tony’s bathrobe while his husband just laughed, halfway between incredulous and relieved, his hands squeezing down tight around Sam’s shoulders as he tried to speak through the toothpaste in his mouth. “Wha’ are you—I ‘hought—”

“They let me off early,” Sam breathed out and then spun them both around on the doorstep, feeling his own wide smile spread across his face, “two weeks, instead of one. How ‘bout that, huh?”

Tony pulled away, tugging the toothbrush out of his mouth and then holding up a finger as he slipped hurriedly out of Sam’s arms and then walked over to the sidewalk to spit out the toothpaste into a nearby drain. Sam pulled a face. “Gross.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, idiot,” Tony snapped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then rushing back into Sam’s arms again. Sam, of course, obliged. He swept Tony back in and locked their mouths together, and Tony tasted strongly of mint, but Sam didn’t even care.

He was home.

It had been a long tour—his last one, now, although he’d still remain in the military once he finished. But he was finally in the home straight, and after another few months, he’d get to stay here in New York for good. It was something that he’d been yearning for ever since he’d left in the first place, which had been the first glaring sign that maybe it was time to call it a day with the travelling. Maybe when he’d first started out at 19, broke and with no family left alive to support him, it had seemed like a good idea. But now…

“Hold on,” Tony mumbled, giving him another quick peck before he broke off with a beam, “Miles has just gone to bed, but he won’t be asleep yet. I’ll go get him. _God_, he’ll be so happy.”

Well. Now he had a family of his own to come home to.

Sam laughed as Tony bumped into the door on his way back inside, clumsy with his excitement. He stepped gingerly into their apartment, looking around to see whether Tony had made any changes. But there were none. Still the same old hallway, full of Miles’ wonderfully childlike drawings and Ruby the Roomba, charging at her little station by the hatstand. Sam shut his eyes and breathed in the smell; wooden floorboards and home-cooked food and the underlying scent of Tony and Miles. He wished he could bottle it and take it around the world with him. There was simply nothing else like it.

God, it had been three seconds and he wanted to see Tony again.

He dropped his things carelessly at the front door and then crept up the stairs, hearing Tony’s voice drifting through the corridors. Sam’s smile grew even larger when he heard the voice of Miles respond, sleepy at first, but then growing louder and more excited as Tony continued to speak. His kid was 9 now— the birthday had come and gone while Sam had been out in Afghanistan. That broke his heart a little bit, but he didn’t dwell on it. They had time; here and now. Sam wasn’t going to waste it.

There was a sudden pattering of footsteps, and then the door of Miles’ room burst open. Wide, chocolate brown eyes met his across the corridor. “Dad?” Miles whispered, disbelief in his voice.

Sam fell to his knees and opened his arms wide. His throat felt raw as he responded, “hey there, rascal.”

Miles lunged, a sob rising up in his chest. “Dad!” He yelled again, and Sam caught the briefest glance of Tony slipping back out into the corridor before a pile of vibrating child bowled into him, small hands finding purchase around his neck as he clung on to Sam for dear life. Sam gave as good as he got, mind you—wrapping his own arms around Miles’ skinny frame and pulling him in tight. It was like this every time he came home. Seeing his son again never failed to make him act a fool.

“God, I missed you,” Sam whispered, kissing Miles’ cheeks and running his hand over the back of the boy’s head. “How’ve things been, big guy? A little birdie told me you got onto the basketball team last month.” He shot a raised eyebrow to Tony, who was walking slowly toward them with his arms folded and an unbelievably happy look on his face. “That’s amazing!”

Miles giggled for a second, before launching off into a near-incomprehensible explanation of everything that had happened since they’d last talked. Sam hefted him up into one arm and took Tony’s hand in the other, directing them all to their bedroom so that they had somewhere a little more comfortable than the floor of the hallway to catch up. His mouth was starting to strain with the smile on his face, but he couldn’t pull it off. He didn’t want to.

He’d just missed it all so, so much.

Sam stroked Miles’ hair while the boy chattered, feeling the lightest melancholy take hold of him as he took in his son. He’d grown since Sam had last been home. Taller, just a little bulkier, although still mostly skinny. His hair was longer, too. It hurt, just a touch, to know that he’d missed all of that growing and changing, no matter how small the differences were.

Not for much longer now though. Soon Sam would be able to live through all of that with him.

While he and Miles talked, Tony watched them both fondly, his head resting against the pillows and his fingers playing gently with the skin of Sam’s hand. Sam glanced over at him, his eyes promising a long reunion of their own once Miles had finished catching him up, and Tony just nodded, squeezing their fingers together so that their wedding rings clinked, the sound sending warmth flooding through his veins. See, it was the little things like that that he’d missed the most. The most casual of intimacies that brightened his world, even if it was just a touch. They all added up though, and when Sam was away, the light always seemed so much dimmer.

“Daddy?” Miles asked softly after a small pause, and Sam pulled himself back into the moment, turning to look down at his son with a fond expression. “Are you— does this mean you’re back for good now?”

Oh. His smile wavered — how was he supposed to explain that no, this was just a surprise visit, and in two weeks he was going to have to leave again, back on tour across the other side of the world? He knew what he’d signed up for when he’d begun this, but it never got easier telling your son that.

Sure, logically, he knew that he did all of this so Miles could be happy. So that he could make enough money for Tony and his kid to be comfortable while he was away, and have his best-friends’ backs out on the field. But that didn’t make him feel like any less shitty when he looked down at his son’s rapidly falling face and realised that he was letting Miles down, _again_.

When Sam’s heavy silence grew too long, Tony sat up straighter on the bed. “Miles, honey, we’ve talked about this,” he said gently as he took Miles’ hand, “your dad’s got a little longer to go just yet.”

Miles caught Sam’s eye for a second, that last spark of hope dying in his eyes as he nodded glumly. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “just thought… cuz you’re back early and everything. S’okay though, I know, I was just being dumb—”

“Hey now, none of that,” Sam told him hastily, flicking him lightly on the temple, “you’re a lot of things, kid, but dumb ain’t one of them. Got that from your Pops.” He grinned and kissed Miles on the forehead, but the guilt churned under his sternum a little stronger than before. This was always the worst part. Tony… God, it hurt to leave him too, but at least he could cope with it a little better. Miles was just a kid, and he’d already been through so much.

Sam and Tony had barely even been out of their teens when they’d gotten Miles. It had all happened so fast—one minute they’d been out on their Saturday-night date, and the next, Sam had gotten the news that his cousin Jefferson and his wife had been involved in a car accident and both were dead. It had been like getting hit in the face with a baseball bat. They hadn’t exactly been inseparable, but Jefferson had still been family, and the realisation that he and his wife were both gone had left Sam reeling. And of course, that hadn’t even been the most tragic part. No, the thing that had damn near broken Sam was the two-year-old son they’d left behind, suddenly without a family in the space of one night. At the time, Sam and Tony had only been 21, with Sam still working in the military, but at a base far closer to home. Tony was an engineering intern, trying to work his way up in the world after getting cut off from his dad back in his late teens, so money was already tight enough as it was.

But when he’d heard Miles was set to be put into care… Sam knew he couldn’t just stand by. Jefferson’s death had been a heavy blow, but Sam still knew what his cousin would have wanted. And it wasn’t for Miles to go into the system. Sam knew what it was like in there—he’d lived through it himself. As soon as he’d heard the news, Sam had sworn to himself that it was never going to be an option for Miles.

So he’d filled out all the forms and he’d brought his newly adopted son home with him. He’d been accepting of the fact that Tony might not stay; that Sam might need to quit his job in order to look after the kid full time—but of course, Tony had been amazingly understanding.

“I love you,” he’d whispered against Sam’s tear-streaked face, having broken down halfway through his speech about understanding if Tony wanted to end things now that Sam had brought Miles into the picture, “I love you, and I’m not leaving, okay? We can go this together. We’re a team, right? Always have been. You and me. And—And Miles now.”

And that, for the past 7 years, had been how things had gone. Tony had been Sam’s Godsend; working from home on his own designs and managing to set up a business that kept them afloat while Sam brought in the extra money from his work in the army. He knew Tony had sacrificed so much in order to make it work; knew that if Sam hadn’t been dragging him down, Tony would have made it big by now. And Tony always waved it off, poked him in the side and told him that he wouldn’t have it any other way, but Sam was still never going to stop being grateful that he’d managed to find the world’s most amazing husband, and more than that, somehow manage to _keep_ him.

Tony and Miles were the two things in Sam’s world that he would do absolutely anything for, without question. They were his heart and his soul. They were his _everything_. And when Sam was done with this last tour, he was going to make up for all the lost time. He was going to give them all the love he could and never stop, not ‘til the day he goddamn died.

“Sam?” Tony whispered, and Sam blinked as he turned sideways to look at his husband. “You okay?”

In his arms, Miles wriggled into a comfier position, his head resting against Sam’s chest. Tony’s fingers were squeezing around his own comfortingly, and the feel of his body pushed up against Sam’s was like slipping back into your favourite hoodie or falling onto the couch after a long day at work. Soft and good and perfect.

He nodded, leaning in to touch his mouth softly against Tony’s. “Yeah,” he murmured, “just glad to be home.”

It was almost 1 in the morning by the time Sam and Tony finally persuaded Miles to go back to sleep with the promise that they’d all go out and do something together in the morning. He and Tony had been intending to have a conversation of their own afterward, but by that point in the night and thanks to a day’s worth of travelling, Sam could hardly keep his eyes open.

So instead, they just slept. And Tony didn’t let him go, not once throughout the whole night. He tucked his head in its rightful place under Sam’s neck, curled his arms up between their chests, and fell asleep nestled in Sam’s embrace almost immediately. Sam followed suit not long after, and it was the best sleep he’d had in the 6 months and 4 days since he’d seen Tony last.

In fact, he had such a good sleep that he didn’t even mind all that much when Miles burst back into their room at 8 in the morning and jumped onto their bed, waking the two of them up with a jolt. “It’s tomorrow!” Miles declared excitedly, “You said tomorrow we could spend the day together, and guess what, today is now tomorrow!”

Sam watched in amusement as Tony’s eyes pulled themselves open. He made a face at their son. “What does that even mean?”

“I think,” Sam began as he sat up and grabbed a giggling Miles, “that it means we’re having an early start, babe.” At Tony’s dramatic groan, Sam laughed and then leaned over him, looking sideways toward Miles. “Perhaps we’re gonna have to use alternative methods to wake your Pops up, kid,” he said gravely, wiggling his eyes at Tony. “Tickle torture?”

Miles grinned. “Tickle torture.”

“Ah ah ah,” Tony said, suddenly alert and glancing warily between the two of them as he pointed a finger, “don’t you dare—“

Too late. With a laugh, Sam let Miles go in order to pin Tony to the bed by his shoulders, and their son got to work digging his fingers into Tony’s neck. The man howled and laughed helplessly, pushing Sam away with flapping hands while Sam merely contributed to the tickling by rubbing his stubble across Tony’s cheeks, stopping for a quick kiss now and again. “Alright alright alright!” Tony yelped after a few seconds, pushing Miles away and then curling into a ball, “I’m awake already!”

Sam held up his hand, and Miles high-fived him triumphantly as Tony just sat up and glared at the two of them. “You know, I’m disliking how you’ve only been home a few hours and you’re already ganging up on me with our son. I’ll remember this next time you need your lunch packing, kid.” He tapped Miles over the back of the head as he slipped out of bed, although not before groaning theatrically and giving them another mutinous look.

“We’re not teaming up on you,” Sam informed him as he began following Tony over to the bathroom, leaving Miles to bounce up and down on their bed, “merely incentivising you into an early start.”

“Right, sure,” Tony shot Sam a look behind his back, dark hair falling into his face. His curls were unruly from sleep and his beard was starting to grow out of its edges, and in that second Sam was almost bowled over by a sudden urge to kiss him, hold on, relearn every part of his body that he may have forgotten while he’d been away.

So he did. Pulling Tony in by the waist and shutting the door of the bathroom, he pushed his husband back against it and pressed their mouths together. The way Sam had missed him had been more than just a physical ache, it was a downright fucking pain, constant and throbbing in his heart. He’d known Tony since he was nineteen, and been in love with him for almost the same amount of time. Kissing him was one of the fundamentals in his life, something he could never forget how to do. And every time, Sam never ever wanted to stop.

“We gotta get ready,” Tony mumbled as he drew his hand around Sam’s neck and smiled, “Miles looks like he’s got a big day planned.”

Sam chuckled as he nudged Tony’s head back, closed his mouth around the warm soft section under his husband’s jaw, and then felt Tony hum happily when Sam grazed his teeth across the familiar skin. “Missed you,” he mumbled, “missed your voice, and your smile, and your body.” He pulled away a fraction, hovering close with his eyes at half-mast. Tony gazed up at him, no less devotion in his expression than there had been on the day they’d married.

“Yeah,” Tony’s voice was a little wobbly as he curled his hands tighter around Sam’s body, “yeah, me too. You have no idea how much.” His fingers softly smoothed down over Sam’s shoulder, across his bare chest. They lingered on his pec, where Cassiopeia lay in inked pinpricks over his skin. Sam smiled, and his hand found Tony’s matching one—Orion, on the right side of Tony’s chest. Winter constellations, marking the day they’d met.

They smiled at one another as the familiarity sunk down, deep into their bones. This was where they belonged. “Come on,” Sam muttered, stroking a hand through Tony’s hair, “let’s get ready before Miles breaks down the door and forces us out in our underwear.”

With a laugh, Tony followed the order, brushing his teeth while Sam showered hastily. Things fell back to normal instantly, like Sam had never even been gone at all as they worked through both of their morning routines in perfect sync. Tony was still using that ridiculous vanilla-flavoured toothpaste that tasted absolutely hideous to everyone other than Tony, and Sam still stood behind Tony while he brushed his teeth and used the smaller man’s head as a rest for his arms while he shaved away the two-day stubble that had started to sprout across his jaw. They’d been doing this since they first moved into their shitty apartment at 20 years old.

“I moved the wardrobe,” Tony informed him once he’d finished and started moving to the door, and when Sam made a bewildered face, Tony just waved a hand, “Nat said it was bad Feng Shui or something.”

“Oh, and you’re into Feng Shui now, are you?”

Tony shrugged a shoulder and flicked his hair. “She made it sound very compelling. Your side’s still on the right though.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he leaned back and pressed an extra kiss to Tony’s cheek before he left the bathroom. By that point, Miles had left again to get changed into his own clothes, and Sam took the opportunity to just take in their room for a second; feel the air that wasn’t overbearingly humid and the view from the window that wasn’t sand and army uniforms. Then, with a small smile, he pulled open his wardrobe and found pants and a suitable T-shirt.

Two weeks. Two whole, beautiful weeks that he got to spend here, with his husband and his son by his side the entire time.

He wasn’t going to waste a god damn second of it.

They spent the day at the New York zoo, because Miles had been waiting until Sam got back to see the new Arachnid exhibit that they’d put up for the public. Sam couldn’t say he cared much for bugs, and Tony spent the entire time pulling a mildly disgusted face and staying close to Sam and far away from the glass that housed all the creatures, but Miles was enthralled by them. He’d always been a curious kid, and as he grew, that curiosity was quickly turning into intelligence, sharp and brilliant. His interests right now were mostly drawing and animals, but Tony had mentioned that he was starting to take an interest in some of his work and was reading through the scientific papers that Tony left around, and Sam didn’t doubt that as he grew older, Miles was going to become a fully-fledged genius. The thought made Sam grin to himself. He could hardly keep up with the _one_ prodigy in the house; once Miles got to the stage where he could keep up and converse back with Tony, Sam was really going to have his work cut out.

“Don’t you think they’re amazing?” Miles breathed out, his nose touching the glass as he watched a little spider spin a much larger web in the corner of its tank. “this is a Darwin’s Bark Spider. Their web fibres are literally the strongest on Earth—ten times the durability of Kevlar! Isn’t that so cool?”

Sam chuckled and stepped forward to watch it, his hand ruffling through Miles’ hair. “It’s definitely cool— although I think your Pa might disagree with us,” he raised an eyebrow over to Tony, who was stood right in the middle of the room, looking nervously to the glass roof where various spiders were dangling above them.

Miles giggled. “Dad!” He waved a hand to Tony and gestured him to come forward, which he did, if slightly apprehensively, “they’re doing a special session where the zookeepers put the spiders in your hands and you can hold ‘em— can we do that?”

Tony’s eyes bugged. “You want to _hold them?”_ He asked incredulously, “Miles, are you crazy?”

The boy’s face was filled with amusement as he tugged on Tony’s hand. “Yeah! And you can come in too!”

Tony looked even more horrified for a moment before he saw the looks Sam and Miles were sharing. “You’re pulling my leg aren’t you,” he declared, unimpressed, “God, I should just throw you in one of these tanks and let the spiders eat you—”

“He’d probably like that,” Sam commented as Miles’ wandering eyes were drawn back to another terrifying-looking spider. He wound his fingers through Tony’s and then patted Miles on the shoulder. “Come on guys—shall we go get ice cream? They don’t serve soft-scoop in the army, I missed it like crazy.”

So they moved along to an ice-cream stand, and even though it was a cold day, all three of them treated themselves to two scoops in a cone, Miles tucked up warmly between his two dads while they sat on the bench and looked at the penguins from afar. Sam was quiet, his fingers carding lightly through Tony’s hair as Tony talked about the latest design he’d rigged up in the workshop. It was all so achingly familiar—Sam had missed his husband’s voice like a lost limb while he’d been away. He let it wash over him, years of familiarity encompassing him like a blanket while Tony went off on his science-talk. They’d been doing this since they were kids in college; Tony sat with his head on Sam’s lap and just talking away while Sam got his homework done for the night. Now things were a little different—their duo had become a trio, for one thing—but Tony still spoke of his work in the same emphatic way, and God, Sam still loved hearing it.

By the time they’d gotten home again, Miles was tired out and hungry, so Sam got to work cooking them all dinner before putting him to bed. He made Miles’ favourite meal- mac & cheese, which wasn’t admittedly that much of a task, but he figured Miles appreciated it anyway, because the kid scoffed it down in record time. They let him stay up later than his set bed-time, just because they knew Miles didn’t want to waste a second of time on the menial tasks such as sleep, but eventually Sam had to put his foot down and carry Miles off to bed on his back. “When d’you get so heavy?” He grunted as he walked up the stairs, tight hands curled around his neck.

“Pa said I’ve had a growth spurt,” Miles responded, “all my shoes are too small now.” At that, he sighed, and Sam just shook his head as he opened the door to Miles’ room. With a dramatic heave, Sam dropped him onto the bed and then covered him in the duvet, tucking the sides into his wriggling body as he giggled.

“I’ll buy you all the new shoes you want,” he promised his son, chucking him under the chin, “but only if you promise to eat a vegetable every day while I’m gone.”

Miles pulled a face. “How long you gonna be gone for after this?”

There was a small silence as Sam looked down at the boy. _‘I’m not ever leaving again’_ was what he _wanted_ to say, except he couldn’t lie like that. He owed it to his friends that were still working on the front lines to have their backs, and once this last section of his tour was done, he was set for a promotion that would pay well enough for him to quite literally buy Miles all the shoes he wanted. It was gonna be worth it, in the long run.

But in the short run, it was just… difficult.

Really fucking difficult.

He smiled and leaned down, kissing Miles on the forehead. “Another six months,” he said softly, feeling his heart fall at the disappointed look on his son’s face, “but it’ll fly by, I promise. And when I’m back home, I’ll get a job even higher up in the army, and we’ll be able to afford for you to go to a great school, and… and it’ll be amazing, okay?”

Miles looked down and nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered quietly, “alright.”

Sam got the feeling his son wasn’t quite convinced, and he could only sigh as he rubbed Miles’ shoulder. “I love you so much,” he whispered, “get some sleep, alright? We got a busy week ahead.”

That cheered the boy up a little bit as he remembered they still had a whole bunch of days left, and he nodded happily as he looked at Sam. “Love you too,” he responded in a loud whisper, snuggling down into the covers before Sam snapped off the light.

By the time he managed to get into his own room down the corridor, Tony had already gone through his nightly routine and was sat curled up in bed, reading on his tablet with a pair of glasses perched crookedly on his nose. Sam blinked at him. That was new. “Since when did you need glasses?” He asked in surprised, stepping further forward and crawling easily onto the bed next to Tony. In one fluid motion, he’d gotten his hands under Tony’s arms and then lifted, positioning Tony onto his lap. Tony had always been light; or at least, Sam had always been able to lift him. Benefits of being in the army, he figured.

Tony smiled down at him, his cheeks going a little pink. “Month or two ago,” he admitted with a small shrug, and Sam felt fingers curl around the back of his neck, “all the screen-time probably hasn’t helped. They’re a bit clunky, I know, but—”

“I think they’re adorable,” Sam cut in, leaning up and kissing Tony once, softly. Then he did it again, because he realised that once clearly wasn’t enough. And twice wasn’t working for him either, so he did it again, and again, and again. “God, I missed you so much.”

Tony pressed their foreheads together softly, shutting his eyes and taking a deep, slightly shaking breath. Sam knew it was hard for him. To always have your husband away, always worry about whether he’d even come _home_. But Tony was unbelievably strong, and he always had been. With a small smile, he traced his fingers over Sam’s tattoo once more. “Cassiopeia’s back in the night sky,” he whispered, which seemed a little off-topic, but Sam understood it all the same, “been looking at it, whenever there’s a clear night.”

The image of Tony, younger, with wide eyes pointed high into the night, flashed through Sam’s mind. “Yeah, that’s what got us into this mess all those damn years ago,” he said, a chuckle escaping his mouth as he recalled the night they’d met. Both of them had been walking back from different parties, both of them drunk. The sky had been clear, and Sam had been trying to spot Orion because Bucky had mentioned it being visible that night. Little did he know that Tony had been walking on the same sidewalk in the opposite direction, his eyes also pointed upward as he tried to find Cassiopeia, which was also present.

They’d collided, quite violently in fact. Then they’d yelled at one another for a minute or so, deciding which one of them was to blame. Finally, when it appeared there was no winner and they both realised that the other person was actually one of the most beautiful people they’d ever seen, they’d called it quits and gone to get drinks together.

And that—the chance encounter, both of them looking up at the sky searching out constellations, had been what brought them together for the first time. Made sense that they’d ended with the stars tattooed across the both of their chests. Orion for Tony, Cassiopeia for Sam.

A promise. Wherever in the world either of them were, they would find one another.

Tony slotted their mouths together after a few seconds of reminiscing, his hand placed flat across Sam’s heart. It was warm and comforting, a welcome home. Sam’s arm wrapped around Tony’s waist and pulled him in close, savouring the warmth of his husband’s touch. It made him remember one of their discussions in the barracks, back a few months ago- Steve and Bucky saying how they weren’t too sure whether they were ready for long-term commitment, which, fair, seeing as Bucky couldn’t even commit to watching a TV show the whole way through, let alone a marriage. But for Sam, he couldn’t imagine anything better than coming home and knowing that Tony would be there, waiting for him. Knowing he always had a pair of arms to hold him up if he stumbled. It was one of the only things that kept him going, some nights. Tony had been his everything since…God, since he was 19. And he would be until the day Sam died, in the same way that Tony would remain his until that point too.

They both smiled at one another whilst Sam’s fingers pulled at Tony’s shirt, his body pushed Tony down onto the bed- and then those smiles quickly turned breathless as his hands moved to other places, worked across Tony’s body in order to bring him over the edge, just like they always had. Sex with Tony was a natural thing at this point; as easy as anything else they did, and free of any sort of doubts. It was beautiful, and was theirs, and it always would be.

“I love you more than anything,” Tony whispered against Sam’s neck, and Sam kissed his agreement into Tony’s temple, eyes shut and savouring every moment. Lotta soldiers Sam knew held onto their faith in God during hard times; he knew Steve and Bucky were two examples. They prayed, and they wore their cross around their necks, and that kept them strong.

But for Sam, this was as close as he was going to get to any of that stuff. This, right here—Tony in his arms, smiling up at him like there was nowhere else on Earth he’d rather be— was what Sam would hold with him when he left again.

He pressed his mouth against Tony’s forehead and just breathed, the universe slowing down as he lay there with his husband. For now, there was nothing else. Only them, in the whole of existence. “I love you too,” he responded, and a minute may have passed between Tony speaking and Sam replying, but it didn’t matter. Tony got it.

They held onto one another, hands relearning the parts of one another they had missed, until eventually sleep took hold, and Sam fell away from consciousness to the sounds of Tony’s familiar heartbeat up against his ear.

*

Of course, though, it couldn’t last forever. His life as a civilian was on a timer, and although those two weeks were brilliant, they went fast. Good things always did. Before he knew it, he’d read Miles 14 bedtime stories, brushed his teeth 28 times in his own bathroom, kissed Tony awake 13 times (the missing morning being the only time Tony woke before he did). Oh, and there had been that one incident with a neighbor and their car that had almost resulted in a brawl, but they'd all agreed not to talk about that. Reggie had said he'd pay for the damages. Mostly because Tony had started spitting at him like a feral cat dressed in nothing but a blue dressing-gown and rabbit slippers when he'd tried to pin the blame on Sam, but still. It was New York. People forgave quickly. As long as Reggie didn't try and parallel park directly into their car again, Sam was hopeful things would be fine while he was gone. 

Burt yes- aside from the small parking snafu, it had all been amazing. There was no place Sam felt happier than at home with his husband and his son.

But leaving… that was always the hardest part.

He could sense the melancholy that immersed the atmosphere throughout the final day, even though Tony tried his best to hide it and Miles dealt with it by simply sticking to Sam like glue and refusing to leave. They spent the whole day inside having a movie marathon, all of them snuggled under blankets and tucked against one another while they munched on popcorn and candy. Tony’s hand remained a constant presence over his chest, tracing patterns with idle fingers and occasionally dropping kisses across the bare skin of Sam’s shoulders. A few of the movements Tony’s fingers made were familiar- after a minute or two of focus, Sam worked out that they were tracing the numbers that made up his own measurements, probably at the forefront of Tony’s mind due to the fact that he’d spent the whole of yesterday designing him a new Kevlar vest to wear when he left. Sam figured it was an assurance thing, and while Miles was enraptured by the Transformers beating the shit out of the other transformers, he took a moment to tip Tony’s head upward with his forefinger, brushing their noses together.

“I’m gonna be fine,” he murmured, feeling Tony’s breath ghost across his mouth. They both shut their eyes. “I’ll be okay, and the months are gonna go real quick, and then I’ll come home and never leave again. How does that sound?”

Tony huffed, pushing upward and pressing their mouths together. He tasted like popcorn. “Perfect,” he replied, and there was something else on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was, he didn’t say it. Just looked up at Sam for a short moment, and then lay his cheek back down against Sam’s shoulder with the smallest of sighs.

That night, when the movies were done and Miles’ bedtime was coming up, Sam took them outside into their little back yard. It was a clear and cloudless sky, and they were far enough away from the middle of the city that the light pollution wasn’t bad enough to block the familiar pinpricks of light from view.

“Where I’m based—Afghanistan,” Sam said quietly as he held tight to Miles’ shoulder and slipped his other hand into Tony’s, “it’s Northern hemisphere. Just like you, over here. We see the same stars if we look up.”

There was quiet for a moment; all of them with their eyes on the stars. Tony had been right; up in the sky, bright and twinkling, Cassiopeia looked down at them. For a second, Sam felt like he was nineteen again- watching the dark sky blink at him, send him on a path that quite literally collided him with Tony. He smiled softly.

“Home must be so far away, when you’re over there.” Miles’ voice was quiet and wobbly, and he looked up at Sam with the starlight twinkling in his huge eyes. “It must feel like a dream to you. New York, and Pa, and me.”

For a moment, Sam could do nothing other than _ache_ from it all—but with a small exhalation, he knelt down by Miles’ side and shook his head. “You’re far away, yeah,” he admitted, “but home is all I ever think about. And I know—I know if we have the same sky up above us,” he pointed upward, finger settling around Polaris, “if I can see my North Star up there… I’ll always follow it back to you, in the end.”

Tony’s gaze was on the back of his head, and when he turned, his husband’s fingers were tracing subconsciously over the tattoo of Orion. The one Sam had been searching for, all those years ago. The unspoken promise etched on their skin.

He kissed Miles’ forehead and tightened his hand around Tony’s, holding his family close and savouring every last second of it.

They watched the stars, silent, close, and together. For the last time in what was going to be a long while.

*

The following morning, after kissing his husband and son goodbye and hugging them so tight that he worried he might have bruised them, Sam slipped back in a cab and left their house in New York behind, watching his family wave him off from the doorstep with a heart that weighed a thousand times’ more than it had yesterday.

He slumped down in his seat and wiped the wetness from his eyes, internally beginning the next countdown. Just six more months now.

Just six more months.

*

“Goddamn fucking _stupid_ _fucking_ _desert_, why is there no fucking RECEPTION?” Sam slammed the ridiculous clunky phone back onto the receiver and then smacked a hand against the wall, using the inside of his elbow to wipe at the permanent sheen of sweat off his face. Third time he’d tried to call home that night. Third time that his call had failed.

“Alright, alright, take a breather.” A hand settled firmly on his shoulder and tugged him away, and Sam saw Bucky in his periphery, a sympathetic look on his face. “The storm’s real bad tonight, Sam. You know it’s unlikely anything’s gonna be getting through.”

Sam shut his eyes and resisted the urge to smack something again. He was tired, and damp from rain and sweat, and he was goddamn _irritated_. It had three weeks since he’d last heard Tony’s or Miles’ voice, and two months since he’d been home, by that point. The days out here passed like a blur to him, but he still missed the warmth of Tony’s body pressed against him when he woke up every morning. Still felt his own heart breaking as he’d gotten in that cab and driven off like it’d only happened yesterday, and not 8 weeks ago now.

He just missed home. Sharing a room with 5 other rowdy soldiers was decidedly _not_ the same as curling up with your husband.

“Look, Sam, we got a whole night ahead of us in this place,” Steve sighed as he lay back on his bunk, absently shuffling a deck of cards in his hands, “just have a game with us for an hour or two, and if the storm dies down by the time we’re finished, you can try ringing home again?”

Steve was right— moping wasn’t going to do anything, so Sam conceded and joined his friends in a round of poker. His mind wasn’t fully in it though; he spent most of the time just silently praying that the wind and rain would die down enough for him to be able to get through to New York. Tony had just attended an engineering convention that he’d been excited about for months, seeing it as a way to make new connections and possibly sell a few of his designs. Sam had said he’d call, and now look at him. Stuck here, in this stupid pop-up barrack, no phone service in sight and a lousy hand of cards to ease his way through the night. Brilliant.

A hand on his shoulder swayed him, and he turned to Rhodey. At least he understood a little better; he and Tony were best friends, after all. The other man smiled sadly and his fingers curled around Sam’s shirt.

“Hang in there,” he murmured, “they’ll understand.”

Sam thought of Miles; his bright smile and hopeful outlook, even when things were difficult—thought of Tony, waking up alone every day in a bed they’d bought together. He would never say it to anyone, but sometimes he worried that he’d end up being gone for so long that when he came back, they would have already moved on from him. Miles was growing up now, seemingly faster and faster every day. And Tony…God, he was beautiful, and kind, and sexy as hell. Why _should_ he have to wake up alone? Maybe one day he wouldn’t.

It was stupid, of course. Sam knew it was. But the thoughts didn’t stop just because he knew they were unfounded.

He looked down, muttering a small ‘fold’ as his turn came round and then turning back to Rhodey. “Yeah,” was all he said, nodding slightly. His eyes settled on a nearby window, where the rain smashed the glass and the wind whipped the air. Somewhere, out there, a thousand miles away, Tony was waiting at a phone that was never going to ring. Not tonight, anyway. 

Rhodey’s hand squeezed, and Sam just sighed. “Maybe tomorrow,” he tried, and Rhodey’s answering smile was gentle as he handed Sam another beer.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

*

Things weren’t all bad, mind you.

You met all sorts of interesting folk when you were out there, for one thing. Locals had stories that boggled Sam’s mind when he discovered them; their tales of bravery and resistance being some of the most uplifting things he’d ever heard. Sam’s team were stationed in a town previously occupied by the Ten Rings, and some of the people who’d lived through their regime had been right in the thick of all the action. Sam was stationed at the perimeter of the local area to hold off any other attempted takeovers, but things were pretty quiet for the most of it. Left a lot of time to get to know people, relax and have a bit of down time. It was better than when he’d been in Iraq, that was for sure. Back then, he’d wondered whether the fighting and the gunfire and blood would ever stop.

He shut his eyes briefly and pushed the thought away. This evening was a good evening, after all. They’d gotten their mail delivered earlier that afternoon, and the weight of the letter Sam had received was resting temptingly in his breast pocket. He was currently on shift, so he couldn’t open it… but soon. Soon. It felt like it was burning straight through the fabric and settling over his heart—this was _Tony and Miles_, they’d both _touched_ this envelope, written their words into it, made it _theirs_. And now Sam had it, he could hardly even control himself enough to stand still with the excitement.

Three months, he’d been away. Half-way through his final tour, now, and then he could go home again. Follow the letter back to its source and stay there, forever.

He could not goddamn wait.

“Hey Sam!” He glanced up, blinking out of his reverie as he looked at Steve on the other side of the room. The man was raising an eyebrow at him, exasperated yet amused at the sight of Sam daydreaming in the corner while everyone else worked. Technically Steve ranked higher than him, so he was supposed to be yelling at Sam right about now for slacking off.

But Steve just waved a hand over to the exit. “Engineer just said he needs help with sorting out one of the RV’s, but his supporting officer’s just taken a break. Wanna go out and give him a hand?”

Sam looked at him for a moment, knowing for a fact that there were no RV’s outside for the engineer to be working on—but he got what Steve was implying when the man glanced obviously down at where Sam was trailing his hand back and forth over the small bump of the letter in his jacket pocket. “Go,” Steve told him with a small laugh, waving his hand again, and Sam grinned happily over to his friend, shooting the other man a thumbs-up in thanks before he scrambled over to the exit, ducking out of the large tent and jogging over to a nearby stack of rocks where he could sit. The night was dark by then, but it was still warm, and the sound of a gentle breeze and chirping insects was what Sam could hear as he got comfortable against the cool boulder and immediately dived a hand into his pocket. The letter was fairly bulky, the address written in Tony’s scruffy capital letters and then bordered with some of Miles’ doodles. Sam smiled down at it, fingers delicately tracing all the patterns his son had drawn before finally pulling out the contents of the envelope into his lap.

The sound of his friends’ laughter and chatter died away as Sam lost himself in the words in front of him, the entire world singling down to that one piece of paper for just a moment. Tony’s letter was first; talking excitedly about the latest design he’d made; some sort of energy thingimabob that Sam couldn’t really make heads or tails of. Not that he minded. He could hear the excitement, palpable even in Tony’s written words, and just imagining how the man would sound if he explained it in person had Sam smiling fondly. Tony also talked about how apparently Miles had found a new interest, this time in Volcanoes and the geology that made them work, his explanation just dripping with love and pride. This was later proved as Sam read Miles’ letter and saw a large chunk of it dedicated to the boy explaining how they _needed_ to go to Italy on their next holiday, because Mount Vesuvius was absolutely the coolest Volcano ever.

Sam read through each one meticulously, then reread them again two more times, until the words were pretty much ingrained in his mind. He brushed his thumb across the final few paragraphs—the ones where they both said they missed him, and loved him, and couldn’t wait for him to come home. Sam felt warmed by it in a selfish kind of way; that little voice in his head that assured him _they still want_ _you_ ringing in his ears and reminding him of every small doubt he’d thought while he’d been gone.

He huffed softly, looking down at the two letters that held echoes of the people Sam loved more than anything within them, etched into the ink, printed by the oil-smudges at the corner of Tony’s and the doodles interspersing Miles’. The paper was crinkled from where his fingers had gripped it, and he took a moment to smooth it out carefully before folding them up once more and slipping them back into their envelope. He would come back to them later; maybe read them again in the morning before slotting them into his special envelope-box that held all the letters Tony had sent his way over the last few years. Sam loved phone-calls, and there was nothing quite like hearing Tony and Miles’ voice across the world, but letters… letters held a small part of their souls. Sam could open them up, hear Tony’s voice pour out of the words, see Miles’ smile as he drew pictures of spiders and sea-lions. He cherished each and every one of them, and they were more valuable than anything else he carried with him out here.

Sam stayed out there on the outskirts of the camp for a good ten minutes or so as he absorbed the words sent to him by his little family back home. Eventually though, he knew Steve would come out to find him if he spent any longer there, so with a small sigh, he folded the letter back into his pocket carefully and sat up, brushing the dirt off his butt. He hadn’t taken anything else with him, so with one last look behind him, he started back to the—

Wait a second.

Sam’s eyes narrowed in curiosity as he turned back to the horizon fully. Their base was right on the edge of the town, and so beyond that point it was mostly just mountain-ranges and dusty desert. Their unit was small, with the majority of their defences remaining on the other side of the town, where the real threat was—Sam and his squad alternated between camps on a rota, with this section having more of a relaxed atmosphere. There was still a perimeter set out though; it would do no good for a soldier to get lost in the vast Afghan desert after all.

So really, it begged the question as to what the little red blinking dot was that Sam could see, about a hundred yards away. It was too dark for him to make out anything other than the light itself, but it was definitely flashing. Some sort of tech, or just a reflection made by something back at camp?

Sam watched it for another second, right up until it stopped suddenly. Either the tech had been switched off, or someone had covered it up. Either way… Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. He’d been in the army long enough to learn to listen to those hairs, and he started to back up hurriedly, intending on telling one of his superiors the situation.

However, he never got the chance. With his eyes still firmly on the place that the dot had been just seconds ago, Sam watched as the area suddenly lit up, a spark turning into a flame turning into a small explosion all in the blink of an eye_. Missile launcher,_ Sam’s mind supplied him idly, while his body sprung instantly into action, sending him stumbling backward toward the camp. He had to warn them. “INCOMING!” He screamed in the few seconds that they had left before the rapidly approaching missile hit its target. “EVERYBODY GET DOWN!”

He could see the trajectory even as he ran backward; the arc was sending it right into the centre of the camp, where soldiers would be milling around getting in a few hours of social time. Sam could only watch helplessly as it raced over his head, over the big tent he’d left only ten minutes ago, and straight into one of the most crowded parts of camp.

The explosion rocked through the Earth, and Sam spotted Bucky’s surprised face a second before pure chaos started to unravel around them. Another missile hit, somewhere off to Sam’s left, and he sprinted over to the weapons rack on the other side of the tent while his eyes searched for Steve. “We’ve got targets out on the edge of camp, coming in from the West,” he shouted to anyone who would listen, grabbing a gun and hoisting it into his arms. Around him, dozens of soldiers were doing the same, the action drilled into them over and over.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Sam spun, but it was only Steve, his face set in determination. “Show me,” he ordered, and Sam didn’t hesitate to nod and then start running back in the direction he’d come, hearing another missile hit as he did so. It was near. Dangerously so.

Steve snapped out orders as they went, and when Sam ducked back out into the open once more, he spotted the enemy immediately. Smoke was twirling in the air from the missiles they’d fired, and he could see that the soldiers who must have brought the missile launcher forward were now advancing, leaving another team in their place to continue firing.

Steve and Sam both observed all this in under a second. After that, ducking out of the line of fire of a sudden hail of bullets became their main focus; both of them throwing themselves to opposite sides as a smattering of gunfire exploded in front of them. Sam scrabbled to the cover of the nearby rocks, but Steve drew the short straw, and where he landed offered no protection at all. If the advancing men saw him now, he was screwed. Steve, of course, knew that too—he drew his weapon all the same, rolling onto his belly and aiming with unshaking hands. Ever the soldier, even when facing danger.

Sam gritted his teeth and then scrambled back upright, using the rock ledge as a rest for his weapon as he fired a round at the closest oncoming target. Steve didn’t need to be told that this was cover-fire, and he took the opportunity Sam gave him to get to his feet and sprint over to another rock formation about twenty feet away. Now both of them were at least vaguely covered, which was nice.

“HOW MANY?” Steve yelled, his hands working off an empty mag and then reloading rapidly as he glanced across at Sam. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sensation of bullets getting fired in his direction, one or two skimming the rock and spraying up dust and stone fragments. He backed off hastily, choking on the rubble.

He didn’t even notice the next missile launch until it was too late. The trajectory was set for the outermost camp; the one Sam was closest to, only ten or so feet between them. When it hit, the noise was immense in his ears- the was what he noticed first. He thought maybe his eardrums might have burst from it, because the world suddenly became nothing more than single high-pitched ringing for a few seconds as his side slammed hard into the unforgiving rock, forced back by the shockwave. Light exploded, the surrounding area immediately turning to flames, and Sam couldn’t see, couldn’t think. He was falling to the ground, but he only realised that in the corner of his mind. Everything felt fuzzy. Concussion, maybe.

He felt rubble and debris falling around him, a world on fire, and when Sam looked down, a sharp-looking bit of metal was looking back from him, lodged firmly in his midsection.

Oh.

His head fell backward, suddenly too tired to remain upright. It hit the dust hard, not that he felt it. He was fuzzy. Someone was shouting his name. It sounded like Steve. Maybe Tony. Although it shouldn’t be Tony, he was safe, back home.

Sam looked up at the sky. Dark as death. But there; just above him… Polaris. At least, he thought it was Polaris. _Looked_ like Polaris. The stars were beautiful tonight. Just like all those years ago. It twinkled at him absently, and he felt something wet slip down his waist. Blood, probably.

He thought of Miles, and Tony, and their stars, and he thought _‘I’m so sorry’._

And then he stopped thinking anything at all.

*

_“It was your fault!” Tony snapped at him, waving a hand through the air as he poked Sam in the chest, “I moved left first, and then you moved right in front of me!” He rubbed his forehead sulkily where he’d been bumped and glared at Sam. “You know, if you weren’t so attractive, I’d be a lot angrier right now,” he muttered, and Sam’s eyebrow rose as he took in the young man, dressed in some sort of party gear, clearly just walking home from a rave of sorts. He, like Sam, had had his head pointed up toward the clear night sky, where a billion different stars were looking down at them. He still hadn’t managed to find Orion, dammit._

_“Well,” he began, “it was totally your fault. But if you let me take you for a drink, I might reconsider.”_

_Tony spluttered, but his eyes travelled very obviously up and down Sam’s body as he did so. “I will not accept full responsibility,” he declared, “but if we agree it was a mutually caused incident, I may be able to accept those terms.”_

_Sam stuck out his hand with a grin, and Tony took it, rolling his eyes as he did so. “Fine,” Sam said, and he used his grip to gently pull Tony off in the direction of Maddie’s Pub. They’d be open at this time. “We should both learn that in future, staring upward is bound to end badly when walking down a dark street. Now- what’s your drink of choice?”_

“--Gotta get him to the hospital, NOW—Rhodey, help me staunch the flow, he’s lost a lotta blood, we need—”

“Sam? Sam, can you hear me? It’s Bucky. Just hold on, man, we got you, we got…”

“FUCK, Reynolds, go get a med-team NOW—"

_“These cheeseburgers are shitty,” Tony commented, tucking himself closer to Sam’s side and leeching off his warmth. Their legs were tangled together on the hood of Tony’s car, breath turning to ice in front of them as they stared down across the expansive view. They’d driven for a good hour to find this spot, and by that time, the sun they’d been intending to see had already gone down. Sam was totally blaming Tony’s time-management skills for that one. He’d spent a good twenty minutes trying to pick out a damn shirt. _

_Although, at least the stars were starting to come out now. They might have missed the sunset, but Sam supposed this was a decent compromise. _

_He prodded Tony’s side, watching the other boy yelp and then jerk frantically. _“You’re_ shitty,” he responded eloquently, watching Tony snort as he chewed down on the last bite of his burger. The boy just jutted his chin forward, looking up at Sam with his cheeks full of food. Gross. _

_“You liar, you totally love me,” he said, although Sam only managed to translate that after a few seconds of thinking about it. He sighed and wrapped his arm tighter around Tony. _

_“Yeah, unfortunately.”_

_There was a small pause as both of them acknowledged the words. They’d only been dating a few months, and Sam had a brief concern that it was too soon, that Tony might get freaked. They spent pretty much every second of their free time together, sure, and there was no one in the world who made Sam happier at this point, but still… Tony had said that he was flighty and scared of commitment, so maybe this was—_

_Tony leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek almost nervously. “Unfortune for me too,” he said as he swallowed, “because I also love you. So.”_

_There was a moment of silence where they both looked at one another; Tony’s cheeks pink from the cold, his eyes shining with starlight from up above—and then Sam laughed, tugging Tony into a kiss and feeling his boyfriend melt into him, fingers curling around the soft material of his sweater. They shared kisses for a minute too, gentle and soft, no hurry to their actions. It was… _

_Well. It was everything. _

_“You taste like bad burgers,” Sam commented quietly after a minute or so, and Tony just huffed as he slid further onto Sam’s lap, view of the landscape now apparently forgotten in lieu of looking at Sam instead. He couldn’t say he minded. _

_“You ate the same burger as me,” Tony informed him primly, “now get over here and kiss me again, Wilson, before I take back all that love I just declared.”_

_Sam laughed. “you’re an asshole,” he commented, but ultimately followed Tony’s advice and pressed their mouths together once more, feeling the happiness as it bloomed freely under his chest. _

“—how far out is the chopper?”

“Few minutes, Captain.”

_“That’s not fucking_… just hold on, Sam. Hold on.” A bump and a jolt and a sudden burst of pain, ow, God, it _hurt_— “Rhodey, fuck, fuck, get them off our tail!”

“I’m goddamn trying, Rogers,--”

“Sam? _Sam_, can you hear me? Come on, bud, stay with us.”

_Sam pulled up outside Tony’s house just as the final words left Howard’s mouth- a curse to Tony’s name, then the _‘and STAY OUT’_ that shortly followed it. Tony was yelling back at him, stumbling onto the sidewalk and visibly shaking as he held tight to the rucksack on his back._

_“You NEVER cared about me, that was ALL I EVER WANTED!” Tony’s voice echoed brokenly out on the street, and Sam stepped rapidly from the seat of his car in order to run over to him, his mind rolling through a constant streak of curses. He told himself to go to Tony, not Howard. Tony needed Sam more than Howard needed Sam to punch him unconscious. “ALL I EVER WANTED… YOU SICK FUCKING BASTARD, I HATE YOU!”_

_“Tony,” Sam said gently as he walked up to his side and took him by the arm, starting to pull him away, “Tony, sweetheart, he’s not worth it.” But Tony couldn’t even hear him, damn near hysterical with anger and heartbreak and fear as he let Sam pull him back. Howard was cussing a blue streak at him again, taking a step down as he pointed an accusing finger and spit venom at the two of them. Sam focused only on getting Tony to the car. He didn’t think about Howard behind him, stood there, telling his son he was only ever a disappointment, a filthy queer, a shame on the family name. He pushed it down. Tony, Tony, Tony. That was all that mattered. _

_He pushed Tony into the passenger seat and then got into the car next to him, taking a short, sharp breath. Tony had been building up to this for a while. Finally making the decision to leave, though—to be done with his family, cut all ties… Sam knew that had to be devastating. And by the full-body shakes and hitching breaths Tony was sporting, he was right. _

_“I’ll kill him,” Sam blurted, turning to look at Tony across the car, his fingers so tight against the wheel that they felt as if they might put a dent in the thing. “I’ll go out there and I’ll fucking kill him, right now, if that’s what you want. I don’t give a shit. That bastard deserves it.”_

_Tony sniffed, wiping his nose and looking at Sam with tear-stained eyes. His face was broken, too young to look so weary. “No,” he said wetly, a tear slipping down his face as he tried to compose himself enough to talk. “If anyone kills him, it’s gonna be me. I deserve that. I deserve it.” His voice wobbled, trailed away toward the end as he looked down at his lap and tried to breathe again. Sam could see out of the window that Howard had gone back inside, slamming the door in his face. That was it, now. No going back. _

_Sam took his hand and leaned sideways, pressing a delicate kiss into Tony’s cheek and then knocking their foreheads together, a hand remaining firmly against the other man’s neck. They breathed together. “It’s all gonna be okay,” he whispered to his lover, mouth pressing into warm, tear-stained skin. “I’m gonna take us home. Real home. You… you just sit back and relax. Look at the stars. They’re beautiful tonight.” It was true. A stunningly clear summer’s night, Ursa Major twinkling right above their heads. Tony had always loved stargazing. Tonight, Sam would take them to the roof. Maybe that would help. Even just a little bit. _

_Tony was still crying, his chest shaking as he looked at Sam and then gripped their hands together so tightly that Sam thought bones were creaking. He nodded, just once. “Yeah. I… okay.”_

_“Okay.” Sam leaned away slowly, his hands starting the ignition as he spared a look at Tony. His head was turned in the direction of the home that was no longer his, but after a second, his chin tilted upward, heaven-bound. He looked at the pinpricks of light, barely even visible through the pollution and buildings, but there. Always, always there. _

_Sam held onto his hand as he drove them both home, and Tony didn’t let him go for the rest of the night. _

It hurt.

It hurt, and that was all he knew, and all he felt, and he groaned softly. He was on fire. He was burning up. There was poison in his veins. The world was moving above him, all white and grey and blue. He tried to focus. There was a person, he thought. At the side of him, wearing a blue mask. Doctor? Nurse? He hoped so. He wanted this pain to stop.

He thought of Miles. His son. His beautiful, genius boy. The mental image of him grinning from ear to ear flashed in his mind, and for a second, the pain lessened. Just a little.

_“You’re looking all the way out to Venus,” Sam knelt down next to Miles as his kid looked through the lens of the telescope, an awed expression covering his face, “that’s millions and millions of miles, and you’re seeing it.”_

_“Just like it’s in front of me,” Miles breathed out, his tiny hands clutched tight around the tripod that held the thing up. Sam had bought it for Tony as an anniversary gift way back when, but when he and Miles had decided to go on this camping trip while Tony had been out of town, he’d thought he might as well see if Miles appreciated it too. Apparently, he did. _

_His boy’s eyes turned on Sam, looking up at him with wonder all over his face. He was only five, but Sam knew that Miles already had a spot saved in the history books. For something. He wasn’t quite sure what yet, but… but Miles was gonna be amazing. _

_“Are there aliens on it?” Miles asked quietly, leaning his head closer to Sam. Sam just laughed, and God, it was freezing, but he didn’t even care. The look on Miles’ face was totally worth sitting out on this stupid cold hill in early March. _

_Sam tapped his nose. “That’s classified,” he said gravely, then laughed as Miles’ mouth dropped open and he glued his eye back to the lens to try and find said aliens._

Fuck.

He wanted to come home to Miles. He wanted to be there for him. Wanted to watch him grow up and become amazing, because he just knew that Miles was destined for greatness.

Oh God, it hurt .

“Someone sedate him, _now_. We’re going to need to start surgery immediately—”

_Miles_, he thought once more, the word sticking in his brain for some reason. Miles. Miles and Tony. Always his. No matter what happened, he would always belong to them. Parts of their souls, enveloped in the letter still in Sam’s jacket pocket. He would take that with him wherever he went. It’d be okay. He’d have them. He would.

He’d follow the North Star home, and he’d find them. Just like he’d promised Miles.

*

The world was quiet when he woke.

To his left, something ticked incessantly—a clock, probably. There was a monotonous beeping sound on his right, too, which was a little annoying. But aside from that, everything was silent. No voices, or machines, or metal on metal. No gunfire, no screaming, no pain.

Just quiet.

Sam let his eyes open slowly and with great difficulty, his whole face aching. It came back to him in fragments—how he’d ended up here, what had happened back at the camp. He’d gone down early, he knew that much, so he had no idea whether any of his friends… but no. There was a fuzzy recollection of all of them, riding with him in a Humvee together. He was sure of it. Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, Reynolds… all of them.

He exhaled softly, and then noticed that a second later, there was another small breath. Although it didn’t come from him. Strange.

He turned his head on the pillow, trying to see through the fuzz. His body was taking longer to wake up than usual, and everything felt…slow. Drugs, probably. But, after some manoeuvring and a few seconds for his eyes to focus, he saw what it was he was looking for.

Curled up on the chair to his left; with Miles tucked up in his arms and sleeping soundly, was Tony. Pale, exhausted even in unconsciousness, and with his cheek resting on Miles’ head, he snored quietly in the otherwise silent hospital room, his hands wrapped tight around Miles’ skinny waist while they rested together. Sam had no idea how long they’d been there, or how long _he’d_ been there, for that matter. Hell, he couldn’t even say what country he was in.

But Tony was here. Miles was here.

_‘I’ll follow the North Star home, back to you, in the end.’ _

He smiled and coughed a little when he tried to sit up. Tony didn’t stir, but Sam watched as Miles hummed and then opened his eyes blearily, disturbed by the noise. He caught Sam’s eye from the chair, and froze up for a second whilst Sam simply smiled at him.

Then Miles sprung; scrabbling out of Tony’s arms and then lurching forward to close his hands around Sam’s closest arm. “DAD!” He shouted, voice cracking, “Dad, you’re—you’re awake!”

Sam chuckled weakly, using all his might to lift his hand and then press it down around Miles’ own. His whole body felt weak, and his midsection hurt like a bitch to move, but that didn’t stop him. “Miles,” he responded hoarsely, “Miles, hey—”

There was a sudden loud scraping noise, a sharp intake of breath, and then suddenly Tony was awake too, leaning over the cot, looking down at Sam with wide eyes. He was two feet away at most. Two feet.

Last time Sam had been awake, it’d been thousands of miles between them.

“Oh God,” Tony breathed out shakily, his hand lifting and cupping Sam’s face, and oh, _oh_, his _hands_. His touch, right there, on Sam’s cheek. Real. Tangible. “Sweetheart, Sam, I—God, you’re awake, thank God, thank God—”

“Tony,” was all he could say, suddenly finding the lump in his throat too big to speak through properly, _“Miles.”_

“Yeah, Dad,” Miles’ eyes were glistening, and his face crumbled as he gripped Sam’s arm a little tighter, “I thought you were gonna die,” he whispered, “you were so still, I—”

“Hey,” Sam shook his head softly, wishing he could say more, do more to comfort his boy, “I’m…m’okay. What—is everyone—”

“They’re fine,” Tony told him, his own voice dangerously shaky as he waved a hand behind him, “Steve and Buck came along with you, they’re staying at a motel a couple of minutes away. Rhodey had to stay back at base, but he’s been checking in every day. They’re—they’re all okay. Everyone’s okay. Steve said that the attack on your base was just—some sorta distraction to take attention from the main camp, I dunno, I wasn’t really…” Tony cut off sharply, shutting his eyes as he ran out of breath to speak with and tried to compose himself. He looked small, thin. Scared.

Sam pulled an arm up and wound his fingers through Tony’s as they rested on his cheek. “How long have I been out?” He asked quietly, hearing Miles moving to sit on the cot with him clumsily. Tony put out a hand and began to stop him, but Sam just shook his head. “S’okay, let him… how long, Tony?”

“Five days,” Tony answered him quietly, watching Miles almost enviously as the boy crawled under Sam’s arms and curled into him. “They transferred you to a hospital in Berlin. Steve told us you were going into surgery as soon as he got to a phone, and—and we came.” He looked down, swallowing hard as he fiddled with his hands. “Steve said it was… and you might not— well, you know, and I didn’t just want to sit around and wait--”

“Tony,” Sam interrupted when he saw that Tony was getting himself worked up, his hand squeezing around Tony’s as he drew it away from Sam’s face and kissed the palm gently. “It’s okay. I’m safe. I’ll be…” he looked down, at the mass of bandages around his midsection, remembering the feeling of metal embedded in muscle tissue, spiking deep, burning at his skin. “I’ll live,” he said in the end, nodding once.

Miles sniffed underneath him, and Sam glanced down, wiping at his boy’s tears with a thumb. Miles shook. “I don’t want you to go back,” the boy whispered, “please, not any more. You said this was the last one. You said… you _said_, and I don’t want you to die, please—”

Tony’s hand went and wrapped around Miles’ shoulder tightly, and he looked back at Sam. “Injury leave will be at least a few months,” he explained to their son softly, when Sam’s voice failed to leave his throat and clarify for himself, “and by that time, his tour’s gonna be finished. And this is the last one, Miles. Daddy’s gonna be coming home.”

Sam smiled, looking over at Tony—so much older than he had been when Sam had signed up for the Army, right at the beginning. Before Miles. Before Tony himself. He could never have imagined his life to change so much during his time in the military, but it had. And it was true— signing up had always been a dream of his. Something he felt he had to do.

And now he’d done it. Now, he had different priorities. He wanted to watch his son grow up and be there for him every step of the way, for one thing. Wanted to watch his husband get his first few gray hairs and kiss away the frowns as he grumbled over them.

He pulled Tony forward by the hand, telling Miles to shuffle up. Tony raised an eyebrow, but then, with a small smile and a careful reposition of Miles, he also hopped up onto the cot, laying down carefully and facing Sam, Miles tucked in between them.

Sam gave him a tired smile. Just the few actions had already exhausted his body. This… this was a bad hit. He knew that much, even without asking. And no doubt when Bucky or Steve or a doctor came through, they’d tell him that extensive rest and recuperation was going to be needed. He _had_ had an iron pole puncturing his organs, after all.

With a clumsy, shaking hand, Sam found Tony’s chest, and he settled his fingers down against the place where Orion marked his skin. Then he dropped his head, pressed a kiss to Miles’ hair. They all held onto one another in the darkened hospital room, clutching tight, breathing shakily. “No more,” he promised, “you’re stuck with me forever now.”

A small burst of laughter from Tony, and a nod from Miles. Tony leaned forward, and they shared a soft kiss, both of them lingering close by even as they broke away so they were lying nose to nose on the pillow. Sam never wanted them to leave his sight. Not now. Not when he’d come so close to never seeing them again. He’d looked up at that sky in the Afghan desert as his eyes had fallen shut, and all he’d thought about was them. How they were going to deal with it; him not being there, _never_ being there, ever again. He'd felt the gaping loss of a life he'd let slip through his fingers, and now... now he'd been given a second chance. He couldn't let that go. Not for anything.

“I love you,” Tony whispered, eyes wet, hands tight over Sam’s own, “I… I am so, _so_ glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too,” Miles added from below them, voice muffled by Sam’s chest.

Sam looked between the two of them, eyelids heavy, smile soft. He was gonna fall asleep again soon—thank the morphine for that, he figured. But it was okay. Because when he would wake up, they would be there. His Tony, and his Miles.

His family.

“And I love you both,” he declared, voice slurred and filled with warmth as he sunk his head further into the pillows and shut his eyes again. When Bucky and Steve stumbled in the next morning, they would find the rather strange sight of a grown man and a small boy both trying to squeeze into the side of Sam’s cot, Tony’s back and butt hanging right off the bed as he attempted not to squish his son or husband while they slept. Were Sam a little more cognizant, he would have moved up, or at least told Tony to go find a real bed so he didn’t hurt his back.

But right now, he found himself too at-peace to care. Miles’ warmth was seeping into his side, and Tony’s fingers were twined between his own, the metal of his wedding ring reminding Sam just who he was lying with.

Sure, he was at a hospital somewhere in Berlin, and his insides had probably seen better days—but he was still home. Finally.


End file.
